


Anticipation

by Pansexualweirdo



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Attempt at Humor, Cigarettes, Denial of Feelings, Drunkenness, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Happy Ending, Explicit Language, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gay Disaster Gavin Reed, Getting Together, Good Dog Sumo (Detroit: Become Human), Halloween, M/M, Mutual Pining, Not Beta Read, One Shot, Post-Pacifist Best Ending (Detroit: Become Human)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-15
Updated: 2019-10-15
Packaged: 2020-12-16 22:27:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21043808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pansexualweirdo/pseuds/Pansexualweirdo
Summary: It's autumn, and the annual DPD halloween office party is coming up soon! What will happen when Hank and Gavin are left with free reins?In which Gavin is an asshole and Hank tries to be patient.Okay, so, I know this ship isn't all that popular, but if you like Detroit and you like these characters, give it a chance! I promise it'll be rewarding. :)I hope you enjoy! Happy Spooktober everybody!





	Anticipation

It was an ordinary day at the DPD, like any other. Human - as well as _android_ \- cops, roamed around the office, busy with their assigned tasks. Hank was sent on a mission first thing in the morning, accompanied by his favorite tin can, Connor. They followed up a report of an assault and took in both the victim and a person of interest back to the precinct. Someone else would take it from there, in the interrogation room. _And t__hank the lord for that. _

Hank liked his job, don’t get him wrong. Bringing justice to Detroit and making sure assholes rid of their sanity spent the rest of their miserable lives behind bars was a remarkable feeling. But it was when the lieutenant returned to the department to find a certain detective prick waiting by his desk, that he found himself liking his job less. Reed was scowling at him - Hank doesn’t ever think he’s seen the guy smile -, but that wouldn’t deter him from walking up to his own Goddamn work-desk. 

"Anderson. I'm surprised to see you’re at work in time. What happened, you finally decide booze didn’t cut it anymore?” chided the detective, sharp as always.

When he eyed Reed right back and was met with a shit-eating grin, Hank wondered if the detective genuinely thought he was getting to Hank. He noticed Reed was holding an empty coffee cup in his hand, and failed to overlook the scars and bruises that littered his knuckles. The cut on his face had opened up again, too, the one right across the bridge of his nose. It was badly patched up with a pair of steri-strips, and the skin around the wound was red and irritated.

_So he's getting into fights now? Jeez. This kid has some major issues,_ Hank thought, but kept a straight face, holding his co-workers’ eyes in a way that said ‘you don’t scare me’.

“Good one, Reed. What do you want?”

“Well, I couldn’t help but notice that you nabbed the last coffee...”

Hank raised a brow, leaning back against the wall lining his desk to keep his distance from the other. The air was thick with tension that you could cut with a cheese knife, always was with Gavin, and Hank couldn’t possibly understand why the detective held such a grudge for him.

See, things weren’t always like this. When Hank first joined the force - before he was promoted from to his current position as a lieutenant - he and Gavin got along pretty well. He had been there since some time before Hank, and he showed him the ropes. They were never buddies who brought each other coffee or anything, but they could share a conversation without insulting one another. That was then.

Hank would say Gavin changed right about when Hank helped crack the ‘red ice case', finally closing up the force that had been working together for over a decade. Hank got promoted, and Gavin turned bitter. Now, they couldn’t even work missions together, let alone have a civilized discussion.

Back to the present. Hank had apparently taken the last cup of coffee.

“So what?” he groused.

“So you didn’t refill the machine. I didn’t think that task would be all that difficult for you, but here we are...”

“You can’t just do it yourself?” asked the lieutenant, incredulous. Was this man seriously standing here angry with Hank for not _refilling_ the fucking _coffee_ _machine??_

“That was the last ground coffee packet. They'll have to order in new shipments, and that'll take over two weeks - thanks to you.”

Clenching his fists, the poor fragile paper cup in Gavin’s hand crinkled was crumpled up, and Hank huffed out a half-laugh before cutting himself off. When he eyed Reed, there was no humor to be seen in his body language or expression. He was fuming.

Okay, no funny business. Reed probably just woke up on the wrong side. If Hank took a step back and tried to be the bigger person, this would work out. _Hopefully_.

“Okay, take it easy, tough guy. I just fetched that cup, didn't know it was the last one. But it’s still hot, so if it bothers ya that much, take mine.”

He jabbed his thumb in a lazy motion to his cup of black joe that sat on the edge of his desk. He fancied his post-case coffee, but no more than he favored the peace and quiet when he and Gavin didn't argue.

“You...” Reed began, but trailed off.

For a moment, and only a brief one, there was a flash of unadulterated surprise flashing across Gavin’s face, like he hadn’t expected the proposition of truce. Neither had Hank, if he was completely honest. But he saw through Reed's rough facade, and behind it, deep down - there was _hurt_, a feeling Hank was all too familiar with. So the least he could do is steer Gavin clear of yet another inessential fight. It may not be much, but it's a start.

The surprise was gone as quick as it had arrived, however, and Gavin went back to sneering, yanking ahold of Hank's treaty cup and almost spilling its content all over himself thanks to his unnecessary force.

“Patronize me again, Anderson, and you’ll have more to worry about than refilling the coffee machine.”

But the threat lacked conviction, and a smile curled at the corners of Hank’s lips when he watched the detective stomp off back to his own desk.

* * *

Only a day after the... ahem, _coffee-__incident_, Reed was back for more, and this time, he wouldn’t back down. He had cornered Hank one late night before he left the station, and he went on about Hank having tattled on him for smoking during work hours.

(To be clear, Hank had _not_ tattled on Gavin. He didn’t even know Gavin smoked in the first place. Besides, he took breaks himself outside the office building to light one up every now and then. So narking on Gavin for doing something they had in common was a ridiculous concept to him.)

The thing was, Gavin didn’t believe Hank despite him telling him over and over a-fucking-gain that he had no idea he was on about. So when they were getting too loud and Hank’s blood was boiling with fury, he was only lucky that their boss dove in and broke it up.

“What is with you two?! This ain’t no middle school playground, you are in the Detroit Police Department! I expect both of you to act accordingly! So whatever _bullshit_ you two are dealin' with, take it outside! I don’t care if you so _kill_ each other, you are dismissed!” roared Jeffrey, leaving both detective and lieutenant pale-faced and deflated of all anger.

Hank and Gavin _did_ take it outside, only they didn't pursue beating the living hell of one another. Instead, they both went to their respective cars, sending the other a murderous glare before taking off.

No amount of death metal on ear-splitting volume could make Hank feel better about this. He had to change things up. They couldn't possibly keep doing this. So Hank would have to figure it out... eventually.

* * *

Now autumn was really kicking into gear. The sky darkened as soon at 4 pm in the evening and the trees were shedding its colorful leaves. But if you don’t count the SAD that came with the seasons changing, fall was pretty alright in Hank’s book. In fact, the lieutenant found perfect opportunities to sneak away more often now to get well-deserved smoke breaks, after having Connor yapping on about dog breeds in his ear for a full thirty minutes. Watching the leaves flit through the sky while allowing himself a moment of solace was something he desperately needed. A private moment of solace for himself. Because that android sure as shit did _not_ have an off-button on it.

It was only natural that Hank took the chance to get some fresh air when the chief was on his lunch break that day. He couldn’t think of anyone who wouldn’t.

That's why it shouldn’t be all that surprising to Hank when he slipped through the back door of the department to find Gavin occupying the closest alley. The man looked up from the ground - was he moping? -, and dark brown eyes met icy blue.

“Reed.”

It was a call of recognition, of unanimity, because Hank wasn’t going back inside, so the detective better get comfy. Gavin replied with a long drag of his cigarette, as if telling Hank this wouldn’t be a chat. So Hank leaned against the wall opposite to the detective, and fished a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket.

“Got a light?” he asked.

He had one himself, deep in pocket of his jacket, but the look of evident dejection that Gavin was wearing made Hank want to reach out to him. Not because he _owed_ Reed anything, or because he wanted to be best buds with him, but because Hank had been in similar positions to the one Gavin seemed to be in right now.

Gavin hesitated before searching his jacket and tossing Hank his lighter. His right wrist and hand was bandaged, Hank noted. He didn’t let his eyes linger on it for too long, but instead focused his attention on the cigarette lighter. There was an image of two Birma cats sleeping in a basket on it, and it elicited a snicker from the lieutenant. Of course. He had almost forgotten.

Gavin was a cat person.

To each their own, Hank mused

“Cute,” he teased, no actual malice present in his tone.

“Shut up, Anderson,” hissed Gavin, snatching the lighter right back as soon as Hank had lit his cigarette.

The lieutenant took a deep breath and puffed out a cloud, squinting his eyes against the smoke to make out the frown on Gavin’s features.

The guy should smile more often. But who was _Hank_ to tell _him_ that?

“So... The annual Halloween party’s coming up. You psyched?” he tried, grasping for a subject to talk about, but Gavin only seemed to take offense as soon as he opened his mouth. What did Hank do wrong?

“What do you think?” scoffed the detective, but he wasn’t busting Hank’s balls with insults yet, so Hank saw it as a good thing. Progress. Slow progress but progress all the same

_Maybe they _could_ get along, after all._

“I think you should be psyched. There’s gonna be alcohol and group activities and all of that stuff kids like you care about,”

His tone was playful, the smile heard through it, and Gavin’s lips twitched in a brief grin.

_Woah_. Hank got him to smile. This was a day for the history books, that was for sure.

“Fuck you, old man. I'd have a better time with Whiskers and a bottle of soda at home,”

Right. Gavin owned a cat. _Three_, actually, if Hank remembered it right. It'd been a while ago since Gavin last told him anything about himself. In other words, this was good. And much more pleasant than fighting all the time, thought the lieutenant.

“Fair enough,” he hummed, and let silence fall between the two of them.

This didn’t seem to bother Gavin. In fact, he looked more relaxed than Hank had seen him in a long time. See, what this detective knows, _unlike Connor_, is that you don’t have to fill the silence with noise all the damn time. Hank took another drag of his cigarette, looking out over the trees that lined the other side of the street. A gust of wind rid it of another round of red, orange and yellow leaves, and they scattered over the ground beneath it. When Hank glanced back at his co-worker, all cuts and bruises covering the hand that held the cigarette, and the other bandaged, a question nagged at the lieutenant, making its way out of his mouth without his permission.

“That injury from a case?”

_ Shit_. Hank just ruined the moment. And it was going so well, too.

Now, Gavin snapped his head back to scowl at Hank, his bandage-wrapped hand fleeing into his pocket.

“What do you care?” he huffed, defensive.

“Well, when you show up at work with fresh scars every week, it’s hard not to. They’re not from a case at all, are they?”

It was more of a statement than a question, because Hank had a feeling he already knew the answer. When the detective dropped his smoke to the ground and put it out beneath his shoe, Hank half expected him to lunge at him. But instead, Reed made a beeline for the door to get back inside.

“What I do or don’t do outside of work is none of your fucking business, Anderson. Got it?”

He turned around to look at Hank, and Hank saw the anguish in his eyes, not matching his demanding tone in the slightest. He nodded, slowly.

“Got it.”

Gavin slammed the door shut on his way in.

* * *

As instructed, Hank gave his co-worker space after that. The days creeped by much slower than usual, and many times, the lieutenant caught himself looking over at Gavin’s desk while buried in paperwork. He was thinking about him more and more often, finding himself worrying and wondering if he still got into fights. His before bandaged hand had now healed, so Hank supposed Reed was trying, at the very least. It was a comforting thought that he was getting better, the only one Hank had to go off.

Deep down in his gut, Hank had this growing suspicion that he knew exactly what was going on with him and this sudden mindfulness he felt for his co-worker, and he _hated_ it. There could be no worse pairing than him and Detective Reed. The two of them, together, were stubborn meets stubborn. Chaos was bound to ensue when the two of them were in the same room. Yet, Hank couldn’t rid himself of this new and frankly, _terrifying_ feeling. No matter how many times he tried to convince himself he despised Gavin with every atom of is body, no matter how much he drank, these thoughts just wouldn't leave.

And now, Hank was at his limit. He could barely talk to anyone at work anymore, much less Gavin. He’s been snapping at everyone and acting like a complete asshole, this he knows, but can you _blame_ him? Isolation and denial was Hank had to protect himself.

But tonight was the night. The night Hank has been dreading for the last few weeks; The annual Detroit Police Department’s Halloween Office Party. You’d think these events would be voluntary, but no, an hour of drinking cheap punch and making awkward small talk with your co-workers was, somehow, obligatory.

“Guess I should get ready, huh, Sumo?” muttered Hank where he lay across his sunken-in sofa, his St. Bernard strewn across his lap, all heavy limbs and panting.

“Borf,” replied the big dog helpfully, and Hank ruffled the fur between his ears, grateful to at least have _someone_ on his side.

“I know. Believe me, I don’t _want_ to do this. But I should get it over with. Find that hideous halloween-themed sweater Con bought me and grab the bull by the horns... Right?”

Sumo licked his nose in response. The lieutenant nodded, a feeble attempt at ensuring himself things were gonna be fine. He grabbed the badge that waited for him on the coffee table and urged the St. Bernard off of him. Time to do this shit!

* * *

As expected, when Hank arrived, the party was already in full motion. He stepped inside the department, and it felt as if a record scratched and everyone turned their heads to see who had disrupted their fun time. Of course, this wasn’t the case, but the lieutenant tended to worry a little too much for his own good at times.

Speaking of worrying, across the room, Hank could spot Gavin talking to Tina, looking relatively relaxed as he laughed at something she said.

“Hank! You actually made it! Nice sweater, man!”

Suddenly, Hank’s boss was on him, a friendly arm swung around his shoulder, and this made Hank laugh. Only Jeffrey would compliment such a horrendously ugly thing as Hank’s halloween jumper. Well, him and Connor. Perhaps they should start a clothing line together.

But nevermind that, since _when_ was Jeffrey this friendly to him? He looked genuinely happy that the lieutenant was here. Then, he hiccuped. He smelled of fruit punch. A _lot_ of fruit punch. Ah. That would explain it.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Look, what do I gotta get through tonight before I can leave?”

“Hey, don’t look at this as a- _hiccup- _ as a chore or some shit like that. This’s a _vacation_, man. It’s Spooktober! Lighten up!”

_God, w__hat culprit was responsible for teaching his boss that term? _Hank wondered, fretting this now even more than he did in the first place.

It turned out that the ‘vacation’ Jeffrey droned on about mostly consisted of punch drinking while talking over not-so-good music and a home-made Kahoot quiz or two. Hank wasn’t surprised, but he was certainly disappointed.

_I came here for _this? he thought. That was until Gavin caught his eye from across the punch table before quickly looking away. Right._ He_ was the reason Hank came.

“Hey, happy halloween,” Hank greeted as he made his way over, ‘casually’ filling one of those red plasticky 99 cent store mugs with pink punch.

“That is the ugliest shirt I have ever seen,” replied Reed.

_Well. An attempt was made._

“Nice to see you too, asshole.”

Gavin shrugged.

“M’not the asshole who came over to bother me.”

He's obviously drank one too many fruit punches, Hank realized when he watched him wobble and lose his grip of the tabletop.

Before he could tip it - or himself - over and ruin the only good thing the precinct had going for them at this party, Hank steadied him.

“Woah, there. How much have you had?”

“Nonya business.”

Irritation itched beneath Hank’s skin. He downed his cup of punch and winced. Ugh. That was way too sweet. And... it didn’t even resemble alcohol in the slightest. Was _everyone_ here a lightweight but him? Reed’s eyes were still on Hank, hostile as the frown plastered across his face.

“Y’know, ever since you started hangin' out with your plastic boyfriend, you’ve gotten a lot more annoying.”

_Plastic boyfriend?_ If it weren't for their mutual hatred for each other, he’d almost say Gavin sounded _jealous_. Hank tried a laugh, but it lacked any humor. He took another cup of punch, filled it to the brim and gulped it down, in hope it would numb him if only slightly. 

He grimaced. Yup. Just as disgusting as the first one.

“And ever since I got promoted to lieutenant, you’ve turned into an obnoxious prick.”

Oh, shit. There it was. That slip of tongue Hank _knew_ he was going to have all night.

Gavin blinked up at him, eyes wide and jaw slack in disbelief now that the lieutenant had snapped.

Simultaneously, they both recalled that they were still at the precinct, and they looked around, expecting to find an audience gawking at them. But alas, the room was empty. Abandoned. Gavin peeked over the door frame to the hall, calling out for Tina and Chris... No response.

“The fuck? Where’d everyone go?”

”They probably tried to get away from you,” muttered Hank beneath his breath, but he helped Reed look around the building nonetheless.

When they reached the door leading outside the precinct and Gavin tried his tag to unlock it, it blinked red.

“M- My card isn’t working!” he gulped.

They stared at one another, then back to the main office. The tables were scattered with red beer pong cups and tacky halloween decor, left. Forgotten. It was eerily quiet. What was going on? Were they in some budget horror movie right now?

Then, startling them both, a familiar voice spoke through the voice receiver on the door.

“We figured you’d be too busy chattin’ to see us leave.”

It was Jeffrey, and he tried and failed to stifle his drunken laughter.

“Wait, what?”

_Brilliant, Reed. Really digging deep for those detective interrogation skills, right there._ Hank would have to take his place.

“We’re locked in here, Jeff.”

“We know. That was kinda the point.”

“_**WHAT?!**”_ Gavin shouted, probably near turning his boss deaf. 

Jeffrey howled with laughter, and you could hear multiple of Hank and Gavin’s co-workers joining him.

“Care to explain what’s so funny to us, Jeffrey?”

Hank was growing agitated, and he hoped his tone would make his urgency clear. His heart was already beating much faster at the mere thought of being alone with Gavin for more than five minutes unsupervised.

“Oh, nothing, Hank. We just won’t let you out until you’ve sorted your shit out. Happy Halloween, boys!”

“Wait!-”

But Jeffrey was gone. Gavin tried the receiver several times after that, but Hank knew it was pointless. He sunk to the floor with his back against the wall, thinking he had been brutally betrayed by everyone at his job.

“So what now?” asked the detective, seemingly unable to face his partner properly.

Hank shrugged, he honestly had no fucking clue how to answer that question.

“I said; what now?!” Gavin repeated, spinning around, finally, and he looked so damn helpless it made Hank’s chest ache. He was torn between punching Gavin in the face and pulling him into a hug.

“Well, Jeff said to sort our shit out, so I guess...” he shrugged, rising to his feet.

“W- What’re you doing?” Reed stuttered, deflated of all anger and now looking small instead. Hank considered asking him to sit down and taking it slow, but he realized, as he walked up to Reed and cornered him against the wall, that he had been wanting to ask this for too long to keep it under wraps any longer.

“Anderson?” Gavin squeaked, and his voice was laced with something that sounded an awful lot like anticipation. Hank took a deep breath.

“We're sorting our shit out. Why do you hate me, Gavin?”

He didn’t know if it was the line of questioning or the use of his first name, but the detective’s expression wavered, sheer shock quickly hidden and replaced by incredulity.

“Hate you? Wh... Why would I _hate_ you?” he laughed nervously, lacking humor.

“You tell me.”

“I don’t.”

The response came quick, certain. Now it was Hank’s turn to arch a brow at the other.

Gavin’s eyes flickered everywhere, from floor to ceiling, from wall to wall, literally _everywhere_ but on Hank, his hands wringing, fidgeting. Hank's eyes traveled down to them.

_His skin was no longer broken._

There were a few white scars here and there and a lingering bruise or two, but it wasn't anything fresh. Hank refrained from hugging Gavin tight right then and there, relief mixed with something else bubbling up inside him. This was a feeling Hank barely knew he had in him anymore, but coming to terms with this right now, was overwhelming. And absolutely disgusting. Of all people, it had to be _Gavin fucking Reed._ Hank was royally screwed here.

“Don’t fuckin' look at me like that, it’s humiliating,” mumbled Reed, red-faced.

Hank pushed further. He leaned forward, just a tiny bit.

“What is?”

“I- It might have seemed like I hated you, but that- that was never true. I got into some deep shit, the cast I had..." he trailed off, obviously still unable to talk about it, but Hank knew. He gave a small nod, telling Gavin he didn't need to explain further. He understood.

"And that along with...”

He vaguely gestured between the two of them.

“... _t__his_, I- I couldn’t handle it. You got promoted, you _became_ someone. You kept getting better, but I knew I was never gonna get to your level.”

Hearing this, hearing something other than clap-backs and verbal abuse coming out of this man’s mouth... realizing that through all of this shit, Gavin returned Hank’s feelings, it was... It was indescribable.

“Gavin...”

“Shut up, let me finish before I change my mind.”

An emotional, half-choked laugh was all Hank could offer him in response.

“I, yeah, I just-... hit rock bottom, I suppose. And I- I took it out on you.”

Gavin finally met his eyes, and his were glossy with tears. Hank found himself wanting to wipe them away for him. 

“I never knew how to talk to you or approach you after your promotion ‘cause I felt like I wasn’t worthy, but...”

He gasped for breath, shaken from recalling memories Hank couldn’t begin to imagine. He'd clearly been dealt his fair share of shit too, and hearing him say it aloud was _gut_-_wrenching_, but it also helped the lieutenant become aware that they both had some baggage to carry. And that was okay.

Hank’s hand, almost by instinct, found Gavin’s, and he laced their fingers together. Gavin _whimpered_.

“I shouldn’t have done any of this. I- I’m so sorry, Hank.”

Okay, that did it. Hank caught Gavin before his knees gave way and pulled the detective into a big hug.

Gavin sobbed against Hank’s shoulder, his body shaking, knuckles turning white where they desperately clung to Hank’s sweater, and Hank returned the emotion right back, not caring that he, too, was crying.

The detective and his lieutenant, two equally fucked up souls, sat on the floor of their police department during an interrupted halloween party, and sobbed, not willing to let go of each other for what could have been hours. Hank hushed Gavin quietly, calloused hands stroking up and down his back, and Gavin’s hands were trembling when his fingers threaded through thick, grey hair, holding onto Hank as if afraid he could disappear at any given moment.

“God, I’m sorry. I’m so fuckin' sorry, Hank.”

It was whispered like a mantra, and finally, Hank pulled away just enough to put a finger to Reed’s lips. He held those deep, brown eyes, that were so so scared.

“Hey, me too. But we’ll get through it, don’t worry. M’ here now, okay? And I’m not leavin'.”

It wasn’t mindless consolation, it was a _promise_, one that Hank planned to keep. And Reed decided that it was time to stop talking when he shook his head and crashed his lips into Hank’s.

**Author's Note:**

> BONUS: When Hank and Gavin finally managed to take their hands off each other, the door to the precinct was unlocked, and in swarmed a bunch of drunk, happy co-workers and their loaded boss. "Fucking finally, you idiots. All right, I win the bet. 20 $ from all of y'all except Connor. C'mon, pay up!" "YOU MADE A BET?!" the detective and lieutenant yelled in unison. 
> 
> If you enjoyed this, or if you didn't, feel free to leave a comment down below. And if you'd like some more DBH fanfics, please let me know. Thanks for reading <3


End file.
